The days in the valley flowed as peacefully as the stream.
Shinichi's body gradually recovered under Abe Nobumasa's herbal treatments and his own deeper understanding of Forest Breathing.
Though his current strength paled in comparison to his peak during Demon Transformation—perhaps even less than when he first became a Hashira—the clarity he gained from resonating with all living things gave him a new perspective on Forest Breathing itself.
He felt like an old tree scorched by lightning—seemingly withered, yet secretly gathering tougher, purer vitality within.
In other words, the world in Shinichi's eyes had changed when it came to the rhythm of breath.
When helping Abe chop firewood, his movements were precise and efficient, the blade following the wood grain effortlessly.
When fetching water for Tsukiyomi, his steps were steady, his breathing long and measured, as if he could sense the pulse of every drop in the bucket.
Through mere touch, he could even estimate the age of herbs and the faint medicinal essence they contained.
Through Tsukiyomi's breathing, he could hear—even "see"—the beating of the young girl's heart.
...
In the blink of an eye, three more days passed.
It had been roughly ten days since Shinichi awoke in the valley—enough time for many things to happen.
The situation outside, the Demon Slayer Corps, Shinobu... all of it weighed heavily on his mind.
Until night fell completely.
"Abe-san, my body... feels fully recovered."
At the simple wooden table, after helping Tsukiyomi dry herbs, Shinichi approached Nobumasa, who sat meditating in the courtyard, and bowed deeply.
"I will never forget your life-saving kindness. But down the mountain... there are things I must do, people I must face. I... must take my leave."
Abe Nobumasa slowly opened his eyes, his worldly-wise gaze calm as he looked at Shinichi, as if he had long anticipated this moment.
Instead of answering immediately, he turned toward the valley entrance, where faint mist had begun to gather with the fall of night.
"The valley beneath the mist is a sanctuary, yet also a land of forgetting." Nobumasa voice was low and distant.
"Leaving here means stepping back into the world's strife and filth. Are you certain you're ready? Though that violent power within you has been suppressed, its root cause remains unsevered. Returning to the world risks its resurgence."
"What? Abe-san, are you saying... there's still demon blood in my body?" Shinichi was genuinely shocked.
These past days, he'd felt no different from an ordinary human—able to taste all foods, bask freely in sunlight, without the slightest impulse toward Demon Transformation.
Abe Nobumasa merely smiled meaningfully.
"Such is fate. What some spend lifetimes seeking comes effortlessly to others. But child, have you truly made your decision? Or do you believe the world will accept you?"
Shinichi's gaze was resolute.
"I know the road ahead is perilous. But hiding solves nothing. For those who died because of me, for my comrades still fighting... I must return. This is my duty."
His fists clenched instinctively.
Though no Nichirin Blade hung at his waist, the mission of the Demon Slayer Corps was etched deep in his heart.
After a long silence, Abe Nobumasa nodded slowly.
"Since your mind is set, I won't hold you back. At dawn when the mist lifts, I'll see you out. Only..."
He paused, his eyes resting on Abe Tsukiyomi humming nearby as she carefully arranged herbs, a complex worry flashing his eyes.
"Before you leave, take a good look at this valley."
....
In the dead of night's silence—
The valley's peace shattered under ragged footsteps, crude shouts and the clang of metal.
Chaotic torchlight tore through the thin mist at the valley's mouth.
"Boss, this valley's weird—there's light up ahead!"
"Damn! People live in this godforsaken place?!"
"Fuck, my leg's killing me! Who cares who's here? Loot everything valuable, grab all the food too!"
"Hell yeah! After being chased by those damn cops, finally some blood!"
A band of ragged yet vicious mountain bandits, armed with crude weapons and makeshift matchlocks, invaded this tranquil sanctuary like hyenas scenting blood.
Clearly lost fugitives, they'd stumbled upon the hidden valley, their innate greed and savagery igniting at signs of habitation.
The scar-faced leader's gaze swept the humble huts before locking onto Abe Tsukiyomi emerging from a dwelling.
The maiden's pure beauty became prime prey in their eyes.
"Well well! A beauty in this shithole? Listen up, boys—she's MINE!" The bandit leader leer merged with his men's cruel laughter.
Meanwhile, the innocent young girl Abe Tsukiyomi looked at the group of fierce strangers in confusion.
"Who are you people? Why are you all carrying knives? Ah, are you the bad guys Grandpa mentioned?"
The approaching bandits burst into laughter upon hearing Tsukiyomi words.
"Hahaha! Little girl, we're not bad guys—we're actually very good people~"
By the time Abe Nobumasa rushed out of the house upon hearing the commotion and stepped over the threshold, what greeted his eyes was a group of bandits lunging toward Abe Tsukiyomi.
"Hehehe... Pretty little thing, don't be scared, come have some fun with us!"
The scar-faced bandit leader licked his cracked lips with a vicious grin, reaching out toward Abe Tsukiyomi.
"Tsukiyomi! Stop! Don't you dare!" Abe Nobumasa shouted sharply, trying to step forward, but his urgent tone was strangely directed at Abe Tsukiyomi instead.
Just as the scarred man's filthy hand was about to touch Tsukiyomi clothes—
A figure ghosted between the bandits like a phantom!
No earth-shaking momentum, no scorching heat—only a lightning-fast green afterimage flashed by!
Thud! Crack!
The scar-faced leader felt a sudden chill on his wrist, followed by excruciating pain.
Looking down, he saw his outstretched hand bent completely backward against his forearm—broken clean through.
"AHHHH—!! My hand!!"
The scar-faced man howled like a slaughtered pig, clutching his severed wrist as he staggered back.
Shinichi stood protectively before Abe Tsukiyomi, gripping a hardwood stick pulled from the firewood pile.
A faint yet intensely concentrated green glow shimmered along its length.
His eyes were cold, reflecting the bandits before him.
Though temporarily deprived of the frenzied power of his demon blood, as the Demon Slayer Corps' Forest Hashira, he didn't rely solely on swords and breathing technique to deal with these brute-strength, undisciplined bandits.
A simple stick would suffice!
"Scram." Shinichi's quiet voice carried killing intent as biting as winter's north wind, chilling the bandits to their core.
The remaining bandits were momentarily stunned by the sudden brutality and their leader's tragic state, but their vicious nature soon overcame fear.
"Where'd this brat come from! Kill him! Avenge the boss!"
"Charge together! He's just one man!"
"What's there to fear from a stick?!"
Howling, the bandits brandished weapons and rushed from all sides.
"Idiots, Forest Breathing..."
Drawing a deep breath, Shinichi channeled vibrant life energy through his body.
His eyes seemed to glow momentarily as an extraordinary sensation enveloped him—the world appeared to pause, every bandit's movement and expression slowing hundreds of times.
Shinichi could clearly perceive each bandit's breath, heartbeat, and most importantly—their countless openings!
Swish!
Shinichi moved!
His figure darted through the narrow courtyard with steps too swift to follow.
The stick in his hand transformed into a lethal blade—every precise thrust, jab, sweep, and slash avoided vital points while ensuring instant incapacitation.
"Tsukiyomi!"
Just as Shinichi cleared the bandits, a desperate cry rang out behind him!
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